


Never Could Be Sweeter Than With You

by loonyBibliophile



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 08:23:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonyBibliophile/pseuds/loonyBibliophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose was never really one for commercialism, but John's earnest efforts may turn her yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Could Be Sweeter Than With You

Rose has never really been fond of Valentines Day. Not that she didn't appreciate a little old fashioned romance from time to time. But the commercialism and the nonsensical way the holiday developed from its origins had always left her with a bad taste in her mouth. So when at the disturbingly early hour of 9 am on February 14 a very excitable John appears, knocking loudly at her door and declaring he has a Valentine's Day extravaganza date prepared for them, her intial instinct is to roll over in bed, groan loudly, and tell him to come back in three hours with coffee and then maybe, just maybe, she will consider participating in such a ridiculous ritual. Unfortunately for her, John came prepared with a large cup of coffee from her favorite cafe down the street, and his long, slender, piano fingers which he uses to pin her down and tickle her incessantly until she is forced to ge out of bed. 

She opens her eyes all the way finally and looks at him, surprised to find he is wearing a tuxedo. And not one of his ridiculous ones from back when they were all in the game, but an actual tuxedo, a smart black 3 piece and a dark blue tie. He's even wearing black socks. He thrusts the coffee cup and a garmet bag at her with a wide grin and waits outside her bedroom door, because, in his words, proper gentleman wait outside the room for young ladies to prepare, even if said young lady is actually enclosed in her attached bathroom. Rose is surprised again when the dress she pulls from the garmet bag is a gorgeous lilac gown, modest but not overly so, with accents of black lace. It suits her tastes exactly. She puts it on, slipping on her sensible black kitten heels as well, but leaves her hair tucked behind its usual black headband. When she emerges from the door, John has produced a large bouquet of purple lilies from somewhere, as well as a disturbingly adorable enormous stuffed octopus and a box of seasalt caramels wrapped with a blue ribbon. He beams at her again and tells her she looks stunning, before allowing her to put the flowers in a vase and then offering her his crooked elbow to hold and escorting her out to his car. 

He proceeds to blindfold her before driving away, much to her huffed complaints and sarcastic quips about how absurd this all is. But he can hear the slight lilt in her voice and knows that at least some part of her is enjoying this, as ridiculous as it is. The car stops after about half an hour and John helps her out of the car, sterring her gently by the shoulders. When he sits her down and takes off the blondfold, she is stunned. She was expecting some flashy Italian restaurant, or something equally as 'classically Valentines day', but instead she is greeted by the sight of a small French bistro, with low hung, dim lamps, and vintage street signs hung from the ceiling, and plenty of candles in bason jars covered in strips of colored paper. The waitresses are all actually French, and compliment Rose on her impeccable pronunciation. John can see that she's pleased with his choice, and he beams the whole meal. They eat a full 3 course dinner, and enough bread for three times as many people, and the meal is wrapped up with delicious fresh espresso and and tiramisu. 

There is quiet conversation about their year and a half together since the game, gentle jokes and laughter, and the evening is generally soft and pleasant and warm. When they're done eating, John walks her back to the car and opens the door for her, kissing her softly before closing it and walking back around to the driver's side. The drive back is silent, but companionably so. When they arrive back at Rose's house, John accompanies her upstairs, claiming he has one last gift for her. Rose strokes his cheek and shakes her head, saying that he's done so much already, and she has nothing for him, but he shakes his head and insists, but he says he has to present it to her in her room. They seat themselves on the floor, leaning up against the bed, and he pulls a flat, square box wrapped in simple brown paper from his sylladex. She pulls the paper off and pries the tape off to open the box, and is puzzled but not unhappy to find a pair a soft, warm, purple pajamas. They're flannel, and her name is monogrammed in shining black thread on one of the two breast pockets. She tilts her head and he simply says he thought she might need them for the snowy winter nights. She coutners that it doesn't ever really snow in this part of New York, but she appreciates the thought regardless, which is when he tells her to hold up the shirt from the box. She glances at him quizzically and does as he asks, noticing a distinct weight in the left breast pocket. She quirks a blonde eyebrown and reaches into it, her fingers connecting with a small item wrapped in tissue. She pulls the tissue off and her eyes open wider, her jaw lowering just barely. 

In her polished fingers is a slender gold band, with a secondary band of white gold weaving around it like a vine, even dotted with tiny, intricately carved leaves. The centerpiece of the ring carved silver rose, in full bloom, a sizeable but not tacky sapphire set just inside it. He looks at her expectantly, the slightest doubt fashing behind his bespectacled eyes. She slips the ring on her finger, her hands shaking nigh imperceptibly and she simply nods. He grins, wide and goofy and ecstatic. She smiles back, just as widely, and leans in and kisses him. They do not stop for hours, though they don't do anything more than kiss. A dance of tired lips and fumbling fingers, until eventually they are both too tired to continue. His face has been smudged with her black lipstick, little smears here and there, like the finger paintings of a child. She smiles, softer this time, and slips away to the bathroom, changing into the pajamas and bringing a washcloth back to wipe his face clean with sleepy fingers. She frets for a moment he has nothing to sleep in, and laughs raucously when he removes a set of matching pajamas and leaves for the bathroom to change into them, twirling jokingly before bowing. She pulls him by the collar of the pajama top into her bed and rests her head on his chest, and it is there she falls asleep, in the one place she can always find a home and a solace from all the aftermath of that terrible game.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a silly Valentine's fic for everyone's favorite grimdorks. The title is from 'Home' by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.


End file.
